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Literature Text
Once upon a torrid Nightmare,
where screams bellow a mute despair
The fondest parts of me parish,
'neath a revolting guise I'll never wear
Darkness excreting a fetid anesthetic,
noxious though it's pull defines kinetic
My every move forced, feels magnetic,
it's not real, behind my eyes, synthetic
Yet I gasp for a breath I can't catch,
guts coiled, on my knees I wretch
Skin drenched in my own sweat,
a need to run from all I can't forget
My legs forbade my only choice,
as I frantically search for my own voice
Reaching for you only to find a decoy,
and I still can't make a single noise
What tragedy leaves me so defiled,
in this odious void of caliginous bile
Bitterly unforgiving I'm torn, hostile,
fragile and confused as a small child
Running out of time I pray it's fake,
maybe that's the critical mistake
Everything I am becomes opaque..
Shake me harder baby, make me wake!
where screams bellow a mute despair
The fondest parts of me parish,
'neath a revolting guise I'll never wear
Darkness excreting a fetid anesthetic,
noxious though it's pull defines kinetic
My every move forced, feels magnetic,
it's not real, behind my eyes, synthetic
Yet I gasp for a breath I can't catch,
guts coiled, on my knees I wretch
Skin drenched in my own sweat,
a need to run from all I can't forget
My legs forbade my only choice,
as I frantically search for my own voice
Reaching for you only to find a decoy,
and I still can't make a single noise
What tragedy leaves me so defiled,
in this odious void of caliginous bile
Bitterly unforgiving I'm torn, hostile,
fragile and confused as a small child
Running out of time I pray it's fake,
maybe that's the critical mistake
Everything I am becomes opaque..
Shake me harder baby, make me wake!
Literature
Sonnet no. 1
A haunted chanting seeps through my mind's wall,
sings tales of the rotten Crimson Marquis.
I scream:
“Your world is killing me –
your words are filling me!”
My mind is torn apart with this last call.
I am churned by visions of blazing clefts,
of hollow words, deceit and dreadful dreams,
of demonic herds and torrential streams;
yet the voice mocks the bit of me that's left.
It consumes my thoughts, seeking for freedom.
“They get their way, I fade away –
Oh God, my mind, it fades to grey!”
And finally, they have killed my reason.
Dreaded by their blasphemous contagion
I say: “We are many,
Literature
In Her World
Why are
Our souls
So dark?
Why we
Only feel
Deep fear?
Hidden
The kindness
Dying hopes.
Hear us sing
A sad song
Please.
Endless tears
Bleed us
Like broken pieces
Of glass.
Her love
Won’t last
I am
A dead star.
(22/7/14)
Literature
Death
The best way to die
The worst way to die
Is without any regrets,
Is with so many regrets,
Quickly and painlessly,
Slowly and painfully,
Having lived a full life
Having not lived at all
And ready to ascend into the heavens.
And unprepared to fall into hell.
There is nothing left on earth
There is so much left on earth
For us to do.
Death has come to redeem us,
Death has come to capture us,
And we are ready for him,
And we try to hide from him,
As our hearts are clean.
As we have secrets.
We will be remembered
We will be forgotten
By
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Comments6
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That's a beautiful poem. Amazing. The rhyming, the imagery, just EVERYTHING was astounding.
Great job!
Great job!